For the Actor
by Fate Defied
Summary: Before I leave, let me just ask you this question one last time.


Were you ever happy?

The question occurred to me as I stood in the basement of Castle Oblivion, the walls as silent as ever. I watched as you stood and thought, planning out the next course of action. One could compare you to the General scheming strategies for his army, but you were no General, and your army was small. It only consisted of two people, and one of them was me. The other, who had passed since now, was a scientist who questioned your judgment at every word you said. In his eyes, you were nothing more than a child playing pretend with adults, trying to weave words together and form an immaculate story. You were only pretending to be as clever as the adults, perhaps trying to appease them.

You know I never believed that to be true.

I suppose I wandered away from my original question. It lingered with me as I watched your face remain stoic. It rarely changed to express anything else. Though, that was how it always was. Your face never changed even when you had the heart to express emotions such as anguish, frustration, or even joy. You always gave me this blank stare, eyes devoid of any passion or feeling, as a child. As you grew, that stare never left. When you were told to persuade our once wise king, the very man who took you in, you did it without hesitation. You did not do it with the satisfaction that you were the only one with the right words, nor did you do it with joy. You were not angry for being told to do it, nor were you happy when the deed was finished. No, you merely stared with empty eyes.

Part of me believed that you expressed more after you lost your heart. I caught your sarcasm when you talked with Vexen, and I saw the gasp of surprise when you found Riku's scent. Your smirk was almost endearing when you said that Vexen should clean up the mess he would cause when he decided to involve himself with Marluxia. Is that when you're happy then? No, I am not so foolish to believe that a Nobody can have emotions. We lack hearts, losing them the day that Radiant Garden was no more. We cannot feel sorrow, rage, or happiness. We can only feel emptiness, nothing.

And yet, you tried to show otherwise. Perhaps Vexen was right in saying you were a child playing pretend. Perhaps not. Your sarcasm had the correct tone, but even I could tell it lacked any feeling. Your gasp of surprise was something to fill the air before you spoke. Your smirk, one I've seen you dawn countless times now, meant nothing. Why though? Why did you act and attempt to pretend you have a heart? You knew you did not have one, and you fully believed that without hearts, we had no emotions. If that is so, then why did you betray your normal stoicism in those moments?

Maybe it was so I would stop asking you if you were ever happy.

I learned not to press you the first time I asked it. I asked it when you had a heart, a naïve question I would say now. You answered with an "Of course I was. You should stop asking such pointless questions." However, both of us knew then that your first statement was a lie and your second one a deflection said in an attempt to stop me. I caught your eyes looking back at me to see if I was going to believe you. You caught mine, and looked away. You were always such a fantastic liar, but somehow I managed to catch you in the one that mattered. Now, that question would never leave you, and you knew I would always try to find out the real answer. Of course, you never answered it. You side-stepped it, changed the subject if you could.

After a while, I simply stopped asking because I figured it was unimportant, and that perhaps you had a reason for not telling me. You tended to have a reason for not telling me many things, not just that. As time passed, that became extremely evident to me. By keeping me around, I had the idea that you trusted me. In fact, you talked freely when I was present, but never with Vexen or anyone else. But, I still watched your face and the way your thoughts stopped short of being said aloud. They always stayed behind your eyes, never trusting.

In Castle Oblivion, it was difficult to trust anyone, especially the above ground members. Axel was the one I worried most about because I did not know what he was thinking. He killed Vexen, and I could not figure out why. It did not make sense to me. Yet, when I spoke to you about Axel before Vexen's death, you did not give it a second thought. Why? You told me you wanted to observe more, but I knew you better than that. You were always clever. You had undoubtedly figured out that there was something amiss, especially after Vexen was killed. You had the answer, yet you chose not to disclose it. Did you not trust me to keep your information a secret? You were the only one I trusted. You returned some of it, but not all of it; perhaps to just keep your title accurate.

I am unsure how long I contemplated these things with you standing in the same room, the same basement. Vexen had been killed. I was the one who reported this to you, though you already knew. The way you said "His scent is gone" was almost reminiscent of grief, but it was listless. Should it be considered strange that we felt nothing from the death of our fellow members? You spoke of the bond we shared before, the bond of this Organization. I still do not understand how such a thing can exist. All of these lies and betrayals, and now members fading into oblivion because of it. You knew that too, and even told me how deplorable it was for Axel to strike Vexen down. There was a note of anger in your voice when you said it, but only a note. Still, it was more expression than I expected from you.

The scene was unusual without Vexen there. In a way, I spoke freely when not around him as well. You stayed quiet, thinking and planning, as I devised a plan to get Sora out of Marluxia's reach with the use of Riku. You only put in a few words, which I felt to be unusual. It should have been you to come up with that plan, to use someone else as a puppet. You were too lost in thought, to observe the reversal in roles though, that much I could tell. You were asking the same question I was, one that went unsaid. Why was Vexen killed? And, I could tell that you were putting the pieces together, coming up with an answer. You didn't dare voice it, but I knew better than to press for that by now. You told me things when you wanted to, not when asked.

I saw you put those thoughts on another shelve when you stared at me again. With that look, both you and I understood what had to happen next. I had to be the one to persuade Riku to give in to the darkness. That was what you wanted to happen. That was how I wanted it to happen. No, want was the wrong word. This was what needed to happen. I needed to be the one to persuade Riku, not you. You never took action unless you needed to, until it was an absolute must that you had to. You moved others around to do those actions until there was no one left to move. Hopefully, you would not have to in this case.

You looked away after you gave me that face. You were acting again, putting on that face that said everything you needed to say instead of your normal blankness. That was what I called your different expressions and tones, your odd attempts at showing emotion when you knew we have none. I don't know why I continued to stand there. I needed to go take care of Riku, obtain our puppet to counter Marluxia's. You needed me to go do that task so you could put the next step into action, whatever that may be. Neither of us moved though, the both of us standing in silence that was usually filled with Vexen's rants.

Don't ask me why I felt the need to break the silence, but I did. "Are you sure this is the right course of action?"

You scoffed. "Why would I think it wasn't?"

"There are risks involved in obtaining Riku," I explained, "He is much like the Hero of Light in his stubbornness. We cannot expect him to yield to persuasion easily."

"No, we cannot. Although, you should undeniably be able to persuade him to give in to the darkness that he has denied for this long."

"What if I cannot?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you doubting your own abilities, Lexaeus?"

"No. I am not doubting his."

That seemed to make you pause and think. It was only for a brief moment before I continued to speak. "His resolve is stronger than Sora's. Not only that, but I fear a battle may ensue if I should fail to persuade him. The winner of that battle between him and me is uncertain. We cannot risk uncertainty when dealing with Marluxia, and you know that."

"Yes, I am aware." You didn't go any further than that, and I knew why. No matter what, this was the only option we had. It would not end well if one of us tried to stop Marluxia ourselves, and you knew that better than I did. You also knew that it was best that I made sure you knew exactly what you were sending me to do. You trusted me to complete the task successfully, though. That fact alone said more than you likely intended it to, or you might have intended it for the sake of your acting again.

"You need to have a plan in case this one does not work as intended," I told you, managing to get your attention again. "If this does not work, then you need to avoid confrontation with Riku-"

"And hide in the basement in hopes that Marluxia's plot fails? I do not foresee that going well." Unfortunately, you had a point with your interruption, an action that I could have deemed as ironic because of your strong dislike for being interrupted. You continued. "If this plan fails, then I will come up with an alternative so I may obtain Riku. I cannot let Marluxia's plot go any further than it already has, and obtaining Riku is the key." You paused for a moment, and then looked at me with a glare. I should have commended you for your acting—you seemed to be quite a natural at it. "I do hope that you will give this your best effort and try not to fail. I refuse to expect any less than your best performance."

"I know." That was a good thing about you: you were a diligent worker and never settled for less than one's absolute best. Though, your acting performance could use some more work. It needed more passion. "Is there anything else you wish to say?"

"I would prefer if you did not start a fight," you answered with a sigh. "A fight is not needed to sway him. If you can avoid it, our plans have a much higher chance of success."

"Understood." It was a simple enough request, and I intended to adhere to it. I trusted you enough to make the right call on when fighting was necessary and when it was not. I was not going to start a battle. I could persuade Riku to give in to the darkness, to understand his power with it. Then, this entire rebellion Marluxia had would be torn asunder. The Assassin would fade as well as the Nymph, and perhaps Axel as well. And perhaps, you would then be satisfied with how the plan has gone, and how all of the traitors were taken care of.

Would you be though? "Will you be satisfied if this plan succeeds?"

"What?" You seemed surprised that I asked this question. Or, perhaps you weren't and you were pretending to be to humor me, even though it's impossible at this point.

"Will you be happy, Zexion?"

I could tell just by the way the silence fell in the room that you didn't want to answer that question, and that you felt you should have expected me to. Though, there was a difference with this question, only a slight one that I expected you to pick up on because of your slight obsession with minute details. It was only a tense chance. I decided to not ask about the past anymore since you seemed to want to avoid it like a child that refused to sleep to avoid the monsters in his dreams. I asked about your future, something that could change, something _you_could change.

You didn't pick up on the tense change, which was odd for you, but I will give you credit and say that you answered the question more truthfully than I thought you would. "Lexaeus, every time you asked that question before, I deflected to avoid answering. Did you ever think that those deflections _were_ my answer?"

I had. I had given it some thought before. 'Were you ever happy?' was only ever a yes or no question, and your deflection pointed in the direction of no. Then, I wondered what possessed you to say no, and if that was a lie in itself too. Did you answer no because of acting again, or because you were not proud of being happy? Neither of those answers made sense to me, so I went to another one that did. You forgot what it was like. You had detached yourself so much from that emotion that you forgot what it was like, therefore you only knew how to say no. I didn't like that answer though, and hoped you would tell me differently every time I asked.

That wasn't the case here, and it was not even the question I was asking. "I am not asking the same question as before. I asked about the future." It must have felt odd for you to be corrected. I normally did not feel the need to do such a thing, and Vexen only corrected you to annoy you or "put you in your place as Number Six", in his words. You put your hand to your chin in thought, not looking at me. I crossed my arms, waiting patiently for your answer since you were not responding immediately. To me, this meant I might receive an actual answer instead of a deflection. It was either that, or you were trying to think of a deflection, or an answer I might like. Or, your thinking pose was just that- a pose to pretend you were thinking, another part of your acting.

You were never simple. You always had to leave me guessing about everything you did. At last, you answered. "Will I be happy if this plan succeeds?" you repeated back, looking back up at me after you finished, "No. Nobodies cannot feel proper emotions because we lack hearts." You answered me with facts, something I should have expected. "Did you expect me to give you a different answer?"

"Do you have an answer for long term? For after this plan succeeds?"

"You seem sure now that the plan will succeed. Did you have a change of heart?" Another deflection, a sarcastic one, but I looked right at you this time. I wasn't going to allow that to be your response, and you knew that. The glare you were giving me weakened. "Why do you ask me these questions? What does it matter if I am happy in the future, or if I-"

"Is being happy something you look forward to when you obtain your heart?" I interrupted you with the real question, or at least what I thought was the real question. Forgive me for interrupting you, but it needed to be done. I wondered what your answer could possibly be to that one. If you truly did not remember what it was like to be happy, then what did you have to look forward to in gaining your heart? You had other emotions such as anger or sadness to look forward to, but joy was considered precious above all of them. It was one that never lasted long, but it was wonderful.

You didn't know how to answer that question, and I saw your mind try to think of a way to answer it quickly without too much thought. That was impossible for you, however, so you started thinking. You started wondering if you had anything to look forward to when you received your heart, and if there was any worthwhile gain to it. You thought about whether or not you remembered what happiness was, or if it was something that you wanted. You then most likely wondered why I was so concerned about your happiness when you were not at all. That was my reason though, because you were not concerned, and the fact that your blank faces were all I remembered of you when you had a heart. You were more of a ghost then than now.

The only answer you could give me was one last question. "Is it something I _should _look forward to?" You asked it with skepticism that seemed somewhat forced. In fact, the entire question seemed that way. You were asking because you did not know how to answer my question at all.

I answered the only way I knew how. "Yes."

"I see." You paused. "Then perhaps I do not know the answer. I do not remember what happiness resembles." I was sure you meant that you did not remember it because you were a Nobody, but that was not how I interpreted it. You answered my question, at long last. Though, I suppose that if I was not a Nobody, this fact would sadden me. What sort of person could not remember happiness? Someone who was surrounded by tragedy at a young age and could not deal with it. Someone who made themselves detached because they did not know any other way of dealing with the pain.

Someone like you. "Perhaps you will at some point," I assured you.

"Yes, perhaps." That was the end of the conversation. I was not going to push you any further, especially after I found my answers. I left you with that question to think about, and I had the answer to the question you never answered before. Without saying another word, I turned away and left the room to fulfill my duty. No matter what, I was going to obtain Riku so we could stop Marluxia's game once and for all. I would not let Riku best me. I would succeed.

Because, if I did, you might just be happy one day, Zexion.


End file.
